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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535862">water the succulents</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iuciernaga/pseuds/Iuciernaga'>Iuciernaga</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking &amp; Talking, F/M, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, britta and abed bonding through vodka and sadness, britta's POV, circa season 6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:20:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iuciernaga/pseuds/Iuciernaga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a year today," Abed says finally, and Britta startles. His monotonous voice keeps echoing through the room after he says it; she can almost picture the words bouncing on the walls, on the portraits of Troy beaming at them and the shirt he left laying on the floor and no one ever, not even Annie, dared to pick up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abed Nadir &amp; Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir, [past Troy Barnes/Britta Perry]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>water the succulents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Don't forget to water the succulent, Britta! And remind Abed to drink at least eight glasses of water!" Annie says before leaving to spend the weekend with her brother. The door clicks shut and then it’s just her, and the quiet apartment 303 ex-casa de Trobed ex-casa de Trobedison, and Abed hiding somewhere in the ex-Dreamatorium ex-Troy's bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Britta doesn't even have a bed in the apartment. She sleeps on the couch with a Batman blanket she borrowed from Abed. It doesn't matter; she has gotten used to it. She tucks her feet under her legs and just stares at the wall blankly. Sometimes she wishes she were of those generations that can't stay away from their phones; at least she'd had something to do all the time to keep her mind occupied. She used to read a lot when she was younger. Now she lost the habit, and she spends most of her free time smoking and thinking about how fucked up the world is without actually doing something about it. She hates it.</p><p> </p><p>Abed gets out of his room, closing the door behind him quietly. For a moment he looks surprised to see her, but then his expression cools. She's aware that he'll never get used to her living with him and Annie.</p><p> </p><p>He nods at her and says nothing, walking to the kitchen and making himself a bowl of cereal. Britta nods back and just looks at him; she knows he doesn't mind her staring. He keeps going through the motions of pouring the milk and washing a spoon almost mechanically.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a year today," Abed says finally, and Britta startles. His monotonous voice keeps echoing through the room after he says it; she can almost picture the words bouncing on the walls, on the portraits of Troy beaming at them and the shirt he left laying on the floor and no one ever, not even Annie, dared to pick up.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought it was next week?" Britta mutters. She knows what he's talking about, though; she noticed it too.</p><p> </p><p>"Next week would be a year from his departure. But a year from today it was Pierce's funeral."</p><p> </p><p>Britta rests her head on the back of the couch, and Abed just rests his elbows on the kitchen counter, regarding her silently while chewing his Lucky Charms. It's like being observed by a cat. She knows exactly what he means, anyway. She also knows that he won't say it out loud, but she'd be damned if she doesn't make him acknowledge his emotions like an adult. "So, a year since Troy decided he'd leave."</p><p> </p><p>Abed stills as soon as she says it, and then shrugs forcefully and takes his eyes off her. What would Troy do? She thinks. Troy would have just the right comment - the sweetest remark, the funniest joke. Troy would make Abed smile without even trying; he’d pat his shoulder, or just brush past him to get a bowl of cereal for himself, and Abed would relax and smile at her too as if they were sharing a secret; the secret being: <em> did you notice how wonderful it is that he exists? </em> But Troy's not here anymore. It's just her, and the Batman blanket and the ex-Dreamatorium door closed.</p><p> </p><p>"I miss him," She provides. It's redundant and changes nothing, but it's also a relief to say it. It's different when Annie is around. She's so sweet, and she's always cheering them up. And it's clear that she misses him so much too, but she's so full of light herself that she can use the nostalgia to fuel her enthusiasm for the future - to become stronger, brighter. Britta isn't like that. She really tries, but she can't help being realistic. Pessimistic sometimes, but mostly realistic. She knows Abed's like that too; that underneath all the hijinks, the antics, and the almost magical coping mechanisms, he's just like her.</p><p> </p><p>"Everybody does," Abed retorts, and it's almost bitter.</p><p> </p><p>"That doesn't make it less valid," Britta says, and she tries her best not to sound condescending or lecturing. She knows she messed up their dynamic as soon as she tried to use him as her therapy subject. He used to be more comfortable around her. He used to light up when she yelled "Abed in the house!" whenever he entered a room, and to invite her to watch Criminal Minds in his dorm. He still looks amused at her dumb jokes sometimes, and he offers her Special Drink when she gets home exhausted from a tough day at work. But it's not the same. It hasn't been the same for a while. Maybe it happened since she started dating Troy. She wonders if it was worth it; she thought about that a lot when she was left to pick up the pieces of her friendship with Troy after their failed relationship. If they had never dated, the whole future would've changed. Perhaps Pierce would be alive, Abed wouldn't have that distant look when he thinks he's alone, and Troy would still send her Grumpy Cat memes now and then.</p><p> </p><p>Abed frowns and pushes away his bowl of cereal. He suddenly looks older. Britta can remember the first time she talked to him at the Spanish class; he looked like a kid full of energy. She remembers him a couple of years later, sitting cross-legged on this same kitchen counter with his hair all messy and his green pajama wrinkled, explaining to her, Annie, and Troy the plot of his next movie. It's not like he's all gloomy and upset nowadays; it's just the fact that Troy is at the other side of the world right now, traveling across the sea and not knowing that Abed doesn't wear his green pajamas anymore. It's just that it's been a whole year without hearing Troy laugh or scream inside the walls of this apartment, and now Abed just leans in the kitchen counter and looks exhausted, like a regular client at The Vatican. "You have a bottle of vodka stashed under the couch."</p><p> </p><p>She grimaces guiltily. "Yeah. I know you and Annie don't like alcohol that much, but I swear I'm only saving it for a special occasion -"</p><p> </p><p>"Is this a special occasion?" He interrupts, and Britta didn't expect that at all. She expected him to go back into his room like a moody teenager. Not that he sees him as a kid anymore, but given the circumstances, even she would do that if she had her own room. It’s just a very depressing day.</p><p> </p><p>"It can be," She offers and gets off the couch to take the bottle off its hiding place. "Wanna drink?"</p><p> </p><p>"It would fit the genre," Abed says, and then he approaches her almost distrustfully, reminding her again of a cat. Maybe a panther. It feels like the apartment is simultaneously too big and too small for the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>She opens the bottle and takes a swig, enjoying the familiar taste and burn in her throat. It's cheap vodka, but Britta is convinced that the cheaper the better. Then she holds it up for Abed. He sits next to her - neither too close nor too far - and accepts it cautiously. The bottle looks somehow fragile wrapped under his long fingers. She smiles at him encouragingly, and he nods and takes a long shot.</p><p> </p><p>“I like vodka,” He admits, and then, in a barely audible voice: “I miss him too.”</p><p> </p><p>She touches his arm softly, and he cocks his head.</p><p> </p><p>“You lost him twice,” Abed says, and he sounds both pitying and envious. It's completely heartbreaking.</p><p> </p><p>Britta takes the bottle back and thinks about Abed sitting in front of her at Señor Kevin's listing all the things Troy had told him about her; the Greenpeace tattoo, her fear of needles. She remembers trying to make sense of it and not being able to. She wanted to list back all the things she knew about Troy; she wanted to say<em> well, I know about your fear of spiders, your hidden ankle bracelet, your thing against date fruits, and your Nana's obsession with Phil Collins. </em> She remembers not saying any of that because it was <em>Abed</em> pretending to be Troy, and he probably already knew all of those things anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Britta?” Abed asks after a while. She had been staring at her own hands silently, lost in her thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” She looks up and offers him the vodka again. He takes it.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to your cats?”</p><p> </p><p>She runs a hand through her hair. It is too tangled. She should trim it a bit. “Suzie B died. Daniel is at an animal shelter since I lost my old apartment. I was too broke to give him the life he deserved.”</p><p> </p><p>The night Troy broke up with her, Britta sat alone in bed for the first time in months. It was raining outside, and the tobacco tasted different in her mouth; stronger and bitterer. That night, Daniel had curled up in her lap and sneezed. It was adorable, and the memory of Troy sneezing like a girl a couple of years ago had felt distant as if it belonged to a past life. She had started to cry after that, and Daniel nuzzled her arm, his white whiskers tickling her skin. It had made her cry harder.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Abed says, and Britta knows he’s saying it because that’s what he thinks he’s expected to say, although she's not sure if they are talking about her cats anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” She shakes the bottle and it makes a hollow sound; it’s almost empty. “They’ve been long gone.”</p><p> </p><p>Abed rests his elbow on the back of the couch, takes the bottle from her, and empties it in one long gulp. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“In timeline number five,” He starts very seriously, and Britta can now detect the tipsiness in his voice. “You two have a baby named Chewbacca.”</p><p> </p><p>Britta smiles. She remembers having that stupid hope that maybe Troy was going to be permanent; that perhaps by being together they had found the perfect balance between her realism and his vitality. She had come to think that he could be her reason to settle down because he wouldn’t demand anything of her; he'd only tease her when she was being the worst, but then cheer her up by calling her the best. It seemed so plausible when he smiled at her adoringly, with his eyes all crinkled and his hand in her waist pulling her closer.</p><p> </p><p>“How was your baby called?” She finally asks, and Abed looks up in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“If even Troy and I were able to work it out in one of those timelines, then you two probably got together in at least one,” She elaborates. She almost regrets it because maybe Abed is not ready to share this - not with her, not with anyone; this part of him that very clearly is and has always been in love with Troy. But if he can't share it with her, then with whom? To be fair, she's the only one who could truly understand it - even though their respective dynamics with Troy were the complete opposite, and even though she never actually <em> had </em> Troy, not really.</p><p> </p><p>Abed nods almost imperceptibly and reaches out. For a moment, Britta thinks that he’s gonna hug her, but all he does is to pluck out carefully a thread that sticks out of her sweater’s sleeve. She examines his face while he rolls the thread between his fingers distractedly, and neither of them says anything for a while.</p><p> </p><p>“In how many?” Britta asks at least. She inhales deeply. The air smells like rain and the lavender air freshener that Annie likes.</p><p> </p><p>Abed focuses back on her. “Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“In how many of the other timelines you end up together?” She knows he can’t actually see the future, let alone other timelines, but he’s always been extremely good at reading each one of them and predicting scenarios. And he knew Troy better than anyone.</p><p> </p><p>Abed takes his time to respond as if testing the words in his mouth before they come out. “All of them.”</p><p> </p><p>Britta smiles despite herself. Abed gives her a smile in return. The alcohol does that to him; she has learned through the years. Abed very rarely drinks, but when he does his smile gets toothier; his eyes get warmer. Troy would love to see him like this, she realizes. He would be infected by the gentleness in Abed’s eyes and moved to tears by the soft tapping of the rain and the darkness in the room because none of them bothered to turn on the lights.<em> I didn’t lose him twice, </em> she almost says. <em> I never really lost him because he was yours the whole time. </em> And it’s not an apprehensive, spiteful thought. It’s simply the truth that’s here, there, and everywhere; it’s in the photographs in the wall, in Abed’s abandoned Lucky Charms, in their shared DVD collections, in the wrinkled blanket on the unused top bunk. <em> He went away because he was so yours it freaked him out. </em>But she keeps it to herself. She doesn’t say it, just like Abed has avoided saying Troy’s name during the whole conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“Troy,” Abed says as if he had just read her mind, and it sounds soft and private, like a prayer.</p><p> </p><p>Britta gives him a quizzical look, internally wishing they had more vodka. She can feel the alcohol running through her veins, and Abed’s eyes already look glassy, but she still wishes they had more. She wants to keep drinking until they lose track of time and fall asleep on the couch; until it stops raining and Annie comes back with cocoa and bagels.</p><p> </p><p>“What about him?”</p><p> </p><p>“You asked what he and I would name our baby in the timeline where we get together,” Abed explains, his voice only slightly broken. “We name him Troy, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Britta stretches her arm on the back of the couch, resting her head on her shoulder to keep looking at him. The light from the window illuminates half his face and neck, and his eyes look twice as dark. Then she deliberately turns her palm up. Abed smiles at her sadly and reaches for her hand. She had expected him to hold her hand reassuringly; instead, he traces the lines of her palm delicately, his nail barely brushing her wrist and contouring the length of her fingers. For some reason, the gentle touch reminds her of her brother, and Daniel, and Troy, and hell - even <em> Jeff</em>, and every human being who was once part of her life but somehow left. She feels tears welling up in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t cry,” Abed frowns, and his voice is so quiet. Almost a whisper. “He would hate to see you crying."</p><p> </p><p>Britta laughs a little, which makes the tears come out faster. “I know. It’s just - It’s such a pretty name.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Abed’s expression softens. “A hero’s name.”</p><p> </p><p>“Chewbacca Perry and Troy Nadir. Maybe they grow up, travel between timelines and become friends,” She says humorously, looking at the window. It’s raining less.</p><p> </p><p>He nods, touched. “Cool. Nice crossover.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, in all the other timelines...” She whispers, echoing his words from earlier. There’s a timeline where Troy and Britta settle down, there’s a timeline in which they all become evil, and there are other four timelines in which Troy and Abed figure it out. It’s a lovely thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Not this one, though,” Abed says absently, and this time his voice definitely breaks. Britta sighs. The room feels so cold. She’s reaching for her blanket to wrap it around them both when he adds, “Britta.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“What was it like,” He muses, and he has this look on his face like he’s not really asking, just wondering; his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. “To kiss him. To have him say he loves you before leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>Britta huffs because she can’t help it. Honestly, she has had so many exes and non-exes; some of them ended up hating her, some of them just disappeared mysteriously, and some of them stayed friends with her. So she has learned to differentiate romantic confessions of love from friendly goodbyes. But she understands why Abed cares about it; he loves cinematic moments. It would have been perfect if Troy had opened up at the last minute; if they could at least have had their first and last kiss seconds before he sailed away. Still.</p><p> </p><p>“Abed,” She says, patting his knee. He stares at her hand intently but doesn’t move away. “If there’s something I learned from Blade, and Subway, and that communist girl with the nose ring I met at a rally, is that exes always come back.”</p><p> </p><p>Abed cocks his head, and she can see in his eyes that he understood she wasn’t referring to Troy as <em> her </em>ex. He doesn’t acknowledge it, though. He just looks at the door and says: “We changed the lock.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Troy was the total opposite of a vampire,” Abed points out, and he probably notices her confusion because he elaborates. “He doesn’t need permission to enter a place. He always comes in uninvited.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s right, Britta notes. She remembers Troy walking into her apartment as if he had always belonged there. She remembers the first time she invited him over to rehearse their drama class project, and he sat on her bed playing with her cats for a full hour. He opened her fridge as if it were his own house and grimaced at her vegan products; he made fun of her baby pictures and rested his feet on her lap while she read the script for him. So she knows what Abed means. If Troy came back, the most natural thing for him would be to just enter the room as if time hasn’t passed at all. But it <em> has </em> passed, and they changed the lock. Troy doesn’t have a key to the apartment. Not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s keep the door open. Shall we?” She suggests, and Abed smiles a little. He’s giving her the <em> stop sugar-coating the truth for me, Britta </em> look.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve tried,” He admits. “Annie wouldn’t hear of it.”</p><p> </p><p>Britta laughs a little. It doesn’t match the weather or her mood. ”Maybe if you explain the vampire analogy she’ll understand. She loves Twilight.”</p><p> </p><p>Abed stays silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the little droplets of rain running down the window. “You’re a great fun vampire to have around, Britta,” He offers, and she knows he only said it because it’s something that Troy invented and it follows the supernatural-beings conversation. It’s almost sweet. Britta wants to hug him so bad, but she doesn’t. It doesn’t seem appropriate. It would feel forced. They’re both too seemingly independent and guarded, yet emotionally attached deep-down; so different and alike at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>She gathers all her strength and stands up. The room sways around her. She’s tipsier than she thought. She tries to remember what Annie said before leaving.</p><p> </p><p>“We should water the succulent,” She says, lifting the empty vodka bottle and walking to the kitchen to refill it in the sink. Abed nods but doesn’t move. “And you should drink water.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noted,” Abed says, but he’s still looking out the window.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: There's a quote in here that gives me a weird feeling of dejavu. It's the one about Abed's green pajamas. I feel like I'm not sure if I have read it somewhere else or I came up with it. It's a really weird hunch. So, if I accidentally plagiarized that sentence, please let me know lol.</p><p>Thanks for reading my angsty stuff!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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